Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Wait, what? Walk away?
He reached out and took a lock of my hair, then twirled it around his finger before dropping it with a sigh.
“Why … why are you walking away?” I blurted, desperate to keep him here.
His eyes seemed to twinkle with something, but whether it was amusement or not, I couldn’t tell. There was a darkness there too. I’d seen it before. It felt a bit threatening, but then he’d smile, and it would vanish. All that was left was the clear blue.
“Because I don’t break pretty things,” he said before giving me one last look, then left me standing there, feeling as if he’d sucked every ounce of joy from my life.
Kash Savelle hadn’t broken me, he’d shattered my world. I was alone, lost, and clawing to make it day to day. I should hate him and not a day passed that I wished I could. Seeing him again was the last thing I needed. Not when I almost had some form of security. But like the devil himself, there he was… standing on the street watching me. Still as painfully beautiful as he had always been.
Betrayal had never been something I’d experienced until Cressida Beck stole my soul, then ripped it from my body. My obsession with her had caused me to lose the life I’d been raised in, my family. I was exiled to Alabama to live with that branch of the southern mafia. No longer trusted in Mississippi, until now. This year, I was getting to come home for Christmas. Seeing the girl who had ruined me wouldn’t break me this time. I wouldn’t lose it all for her again. I just had to keep a firm grip on my sanity and stop seeking her out like the animal inside me that hadn’t stopped craving her
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Cressida
Sixteen Years Old
Was there a blue that could describe his eyes accurately? I didn’t think so, and God knew I’d lain in bed trying to think of one since Kash Savelle had locked them on me the first day of school. The clearest sky on a summer day, the color of a perfect raindrop, the ocean in the South Pacific perhaps might come close.
Holding my laptop tightly to my chest, I scanned the crowded hallway as those around me talked about the football game on Friday night. Our team had beaten the other one by over twenty points. Kash had run in two touchdowns. Calloway Short dropped her pom-poms and took off running to him when the game was over. I didn’t stay around to watch the rest of that. Instead, I went home and did my best to shove the image of the head cheerleader slash prom queen slash pain in my ass throwing herself into his arms out of my mind. But getting Kash Savelle out of my head had been impossible. He had seared his image into my brain with those damn eyes and that cocky grin of his.
I wasn’t doing much to fight this attraction to him either. Like, at the moment, when I should be hurrying to my first period class and going over the questions for our quiz, I was instead looking for him. Wanting a glimpse. Oh, who was I kidding? I wanted to see if he noticed me, smiled at me, spoke to me. I had thought of little else all weekend.
“Tell me who you’re looking for so intently, and I’ll help you find them.” The thick Southern drawl was one I would recognize anywhere. It was the only voice that had ever sent a thrill through my body and caused instant goose bumps.
I spun around, drawing in a sharp breath as my heart took off in a wild flutter.
There he was. All six foot two of him, with his messy hair the color of ink and those eyes that made even the bluest sky appear lackluster. The corner of his mouth quirked as his eyes glinted with … I wasn’t sure, but it sent a shiver through me. Was it interest? Oh God, let it be interest.
“Kash! Where did y—” another male voice called out, then paused mid-sentence when Kash held up a hand and stopped whatever they were going to say, keeping his gaze on mine.
“I’m busy,” he said, and then he winked at me.
I was going to melt. Right here on the floor. Become an instant puddle. Kash Savelle had winked at me.
“I see … later then,” the other guy replied, and Kash gave a small nod of his head in agreement.
“Now, who was it you need to find, beautiful?” he asked me.
Breathe, Cressida. Do not embarrass yourself. You have his attention. Make the most of it.
He called me beautiful!
“I was, um, just, uh …” I stammered like an idiot. What did I say? That I’d been looking for him? Telling him that might scare him off. It gave stalker vibes. “No one.” Liar.
He raised one eyebrow. “You sure about that? Because I stood behind you for a solid minute, and you were so locked in that you didn’t notice you were being admired.”
Admired? Me. He had been looking at me.
“Oh,” I breathed, unable to say more than that with my heart racing.
A deep chuckle sent a bolt of pleasure through me. “Damn, you’re sweet. Lucky for you I’ve got a conscience and I’m gonna walk away.”
Wait, what? Walk away?
He reached out and took a lock of my hair, then twirled it around his finger before dropping it with a sigh.
“Why … why are you walking away?” I blurted, desperate to keep him here.
His eyes seemed to twinkle with something, but whether it was amusement or not, I couldn’t tell. There was a darkness there too. I’d seen it before. It felt a bit threatening, but then he’d smile, and it would vanish. All that was left was the clear blue.
“Because I don’t break pretty things,” he said before giving me one last look, then left me standing there, feeling as if he’d sucked every ounce of joy from my life.
One
Cressida
Twenty-Three Years Old
“Order up,” Harland Wilts, the only cook at the twenty-four-hour greasy-spoon diner I’d unfortunately been working at for the past month called out.
There were two truckers, a table of firemen who had just gotten off the night shift, and Burt—the homeless man I had given ten dollars to so he could come in and eat since the temperature had dropped this week.
I worked from four in the morning until four in the afternoon. The hours were long and exhausting, but if I ever wanted to save enough money to get a better place to live, then I needed to work the twelve-hour shifts. Truth was, I wasn’t far from being as homeless as Burt. Seeing him buried under old blankets on my walk to work reminded me how close I was to being in that situation. It was still better than the alternative. Running had been my only option. No one was going to find me here. Even if my father tried, which I doubted he would, he wouldn’t look for me at a place like the diner.